Only Mikey
by TheRedScreech
Summary: So…the 2014 TMNT really can't get into the sewers via manholes. You'd think they knew.
Special thanks to Rain in the Dark for the prompt.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Only Mikey would have thought this would work.

Donatello stared at his youngest brother with something akin to both humour and flat-out disappointment because there was no way that they were related. "Mikey…" he exhaled.

"No. I know. Please, don't say it."

"You are currently in no position to stop me from saying anything I want," Don retorted. He still could not stop staring at the two-hundred-and-thirty-pound mutant turtle stuck in the manhole in a dark alley. The moron had somehow wedged his legs through at the same time and was now stuck at the thigh, the shell impeding his progress to get in or out. Yeah. They were definitely from different clutches. Maybe he had some long-lost genius-brothers somewhere, living in a tank and eating leaves? "Seriously, Mike, what possessed you to try this?"

"Well, I was on the internet and there are these cute little stories about mutant turtles just like us, except they're not just like us because they can…"

"Let me guess," grumbled the genius. "They can fit through manholes? Michelangelo, you realize those stories are fictional, right?"

"Yeah, but…"

"No. No buts. Not from you." He crouched down and rubbed his chin with one hand as he readjusted the glasses perched on his beak. "Yep. You're stuck."

"Gee, thanks, Brainiac! Care to tell me how I'm going to get out?"

"See, that's the thing. I called Leo and Raph already so they're on their way now. Leo doesn't go anywhere without his katana, and it's a good thing I've my medical bag with me…"

"YOU'RE GONNA CHOP OFF MY LEGS?!"

"Calm down, Mike! People are going to hear you! You're stuck! What do you want me to do?"

Actual, legitimate tears welled in his little brother's eyes. "Can't you think of something else? I mean, you _are_ a genius. That can't be the only option, right?"

Don stood, crossed his arms over his chest and did his best pitying expression. "Afraid not. I really am sorry about this, bro. But maybe next time you'll remember not to try something so dumb just because you read about it or watched it or whatever."

"But I'm ninja," Mikey whined. "I can't be ninja without my legs."

"He moanin' again?" Raph griped, arriving on scene with a bag over his shoulder and Leo right behind him.

"Raphie! Tell Donnie that he can't make Leo chop off my legs!"

While Raph fixed Don with a look of absolute delight, Leo stepped forward. "No one's chopping off your legs, Mikey. Calm down. We're going to grease you down and hopefully you'll just slide right out."

Don was mildly impressed with Mikey's puppy eyes as he said, "So…you're really not going to chop off my legs?"

"No, little brother. Definitely not." He glanced over his shoulder at Don, his eyes promising a lecture for when they got home, and Donnie couldn't help but smirk. It was, after all, a rare opportunity to prank the master prankster.

Raph set the bag down, revealing the haul of soft butter. "Alright, bros. Let's prep this turtle."

"You make it sound like you're going to cook me," Mikey whimpered.

"There's an idea! Cannibalism aside, I've always been curious how turtle soup would taste," mused Donnie.

"Not helping, Donatello," Leo warned as he smeared butter around Mikey's legs. "Geez, Mike! How'd you wedge the edge of your shell in? No flipping wonder you're stuck!"

"I'm just that cool, dude." Mikey's attempt at humour was dulled by fear and tiredness.

Don knew he'd have to take a look at his legs to make sure nothing was damaged. The worst that could happen was cut-off blood flow. "You can still feel your toes, right, Mike?" he asked slowly.

"Uh huh. They're kinda tingly, though."

"That's fine. We can fix tingly."

"That's good." Mikey rested his head against Leo's shoulder as the eldest and Raph worked, and Leo, because his hands were coated in grease, nuzzled him gently with his beak.

After several minutes, the two turtles stood back and wiped their hands rigorously on towels.

"Well, that should do it," announced Raph. "Let's pop this cork outta the bottle."

"You and your metaphors, Raph," Don said with a roll of his eyes. "You guys pull. I'll try to wedge my staff behind his shell. That's where we're going to have the hard time. Shells aren't as flexible as skin is."

"Peachy. Don't pull my arms out."

Leo and Raph took hold while Don set up behind Mikey. "On my mark," he said, winching his bō between shell and concrete. "Go!"

His brothers pulled, Mikey held back his whimpers and Don snarled through his teeth as he applied leverage to the staff. _He's not a cork, he's a clam,_ he thought absently. _Focus, Donnie! Not helping!_

It took three and a half minutes but with a heavy scrap of shell against stone and a yelp, Mikey flew out of the hole and landed on his brothers.

"I'm alive!" he crowed, hugging them around the necks. Then he turned to Don.

It was in the next second that Don realized that the smile his baby brother gave him was anything but grateful. The next second was too late for him to react as Mikey had already launched himself at him, tackling him. The two turtles rolled in a tussle.

"Chop off my legs? Really, Don? That is so not cool!"

Behind them and unnoticed, Leo and Raph bumped fists, both wearing identical grins.


End file.
